All That Jazz (1979)

An autobiographical musical drama directed by Bob Fosse. It’s a noble failure – high on ambition, low on satisfaction. 

The “story”, what there is of one, deals with a character supposedly based on Fosse himself. Joe Gideon (Roy Scheider) is a theatre director and choreographer. He’s a womaniser, chain-smoker and drug user whose health is getting worse by the day. When he’s eventually hospitalised, the remainder of the film plays out as a sort of fantasy/dream sequence that blends scenes from his life with high-concept showbiz production numbers. These take place in an imaginary nightclub with the angel of death played by Jessica Lange. 

The problem is that Joe's character is established in the first five-to-10 minutes and is left with nowhere to go. It’s never explained how he got to be who he is, why he behaves like this, why his family put up with him, and why we should care. A brief bit of back story (Joe as a teen) is quickly abandoned, and way too much of the film is taken up with him hallucinating while in hospital. That time could have been used for character development. 

The impressionistic scenes are a spectacle, but there’s an ugly quality to the visuals that’s off-putting. Ultimately it becomes wearying.

Tootsie (1982)

Strikingly unusual romantic comedy. 

New Yorker Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) cannot hold down work as an actor because he's too opinionated to accept his directors' instructions. Out of desperation, he pretends to be a woman (reshuffling his name as Dorothy Michaels) and is hired to play a hospital administrator on the popular TV soap opera Southwest General. While on the set he meets and falls in love with another member of the cast, Julie Nichols (Jessica Lange), who believes he is both her new best friend and also a woman.

Hoffman is at his best – pushy but vulnerable, quirky but sharply witty. Lange is also excellent. Bill Murray, as Michael's long-suffering friend Jeff, pretty much does his usual thing. Teri Garr, meanwhile, has an intriguing role as his other friend Sandy. 

In the film's oddest moment, Sandy catches Michael in a state of undress in her bedroom where he hopes to find new clothing ideas for his Dorothy persona. But hoping to hide this from her, he pretends he wanted to sleep with Sandy and then goes ahead and does exactly that. Moments like this make it quite revealing in terms of the gender politics of the late 1970s/early 1980s, and the film would certainly have turned out differently if it had been made now.

Rob Roy (1995)

Scotland, 1713. A Highlands clan chief guided by principles of honour (Liam Neeson) is happily married to Jessica Lange, but a financial loan from the Marquess of Montrose (John Hurt) backfires when he’s double-crossed by a nasty nobleman (Tim Roth). 

It’s entertaining fluff – well directed and highly watchable – with a surprisingly intelligent script wrapped around the story’s various twists and turns. 

The landscapes look terrific if you don’t mind the soupy “traditional” music that’s played whenever you see them. 

Neeson has charm and gravitas. Lange just has charm and handles a difficult role with great skill. Roth is compelling as a horribly corrupt schemer.

Cape Fear (1991)

Martin Scorsese’s remake of the 1962 film creates something bigger, louder and a lot more scary than the original. This time around the psychopath Max Cady is played by Robert De Niro, who is fuelled by his own version of religion as well as a desperate craving for revenge. The plot is very similar – ex-con terrorises lawyer and his family – except that Scorsese builds in more moral ambiguity. Sam Boden (Nick Nolte) is not a squeaky-clean lawyer. Instead, he has acted unprofessionally by concealing a report relating to Cady’s case and is unfaithful to his wife Leigh (Jessica Lange) with a legal clerk called Loti (Illeana Douglas). 

The biggest difference is that the Bodens’ daughter, Danielle (a particularly superb Juliette Lewis), is a 15-year-old who is drawn into an ambiguous understanding with Cady. He exploits her dawning sexuality as well as her feelings of being misunderstood by her parents. 

In many ways it’s a film about family and – like Cady himself – it cleverly explores the threads that tie them together as well as probing into the cracks that pull them apart. 

The music, based on Bernard Herrmann’s score for the original, has a high drama, helping to drive the dynamism and the tension on screen. 

There’s also the slight novelty of cameos from three of the original cast – Robert Mitchum, Gregory Peck and Martin Balsam all appear in minor roles. 

If there’s a criticism it’s that it’s a little overwrought at times, but I like that quality: Scorsese turns up the drama and makes it almost unbearable. Then he turns it up some more.

Broken Flowers (2005)

Comic drama directed by Jim Jarmusch.

Don Johnston (played by Bill Murray and with a name that gets him deliberately confused with the Miami Vice actor) is a lonely, retired man who used to work in computers. On the day that his girlfriend Sherry (Julie Delpy) leaves him, he receives an anonymous letter that tells him he has a 19-year-old son. With the help of his neighbour Winston (Jeffrey Wright), a fan of detective stories, he sets off on an investigative trip to meet four women who might have been the mother of the child he never knew he had. 

The bulk of the film deals with these four encounters, which meet with varying degrees of success. One of the former lovers (Sharon Stone) spends the night with him. Another (Tilda Swinton) gets him beaten up. All of these four women (​​Frances Conroy and Jessica Lange play the other two parts) are convincingly portrayed.

It could have been funnier. Some of the deliberately “low-key”, contemplative scenes just fall flat, even though that’s probably the point. The detective aspect is a bit silly, which undercuts some of the power of the serious relationship material. And while I appreciate that it was deliberately left ambiguous, the final “twist” at the very end is an in-joke that slightly spoils the open-ended conclusion.  

It’s ultimately a third-rate Lost in Translation, but without as much originality, dry wit or warmth.

Masked and Anonymous (2003)

An awkward, over-stylised mess. The “plot”, what there is of one, details a future North America in which society has partly broken down. An iconic rock star named Jack Fate (Bob Dylan) is released from prison to play a benefit concert. 

There are too many actors. None of them have much to do but they all look a little too pleased with themselves for being in a film with Bob Dylan. As usual, John Goodman plays an annoying fat crook. I find him unbearable – exactly the same persona in every role. Jeff Bridges plays a journalist and Penélope Cruz is his strange girlfriend. These characters have the annoying names Uncle Sweetheart, Tom Friend and Pagan Lace.

The all-star cast also includes Jessica Lange, Luke Wilson, Val Kilmer, Chris Penn, Mickey Rourke and Christian Slater. It’s remarkable that you end up not caring about a single character, as none of them are remotely developed. They are all merely mouthpieces for self-consciously cryptic speeches and pseudo-profound utterances that add up to very little. Even Bob Dylan gets annoying, and he was the only reason I watched the film. Yes, he’s enigmatic and charismatic – he can’t be anything else  – but nothing is ever done with those qualities. 

The music is the most interesting element: Dylan performs a few songs “live” within the film and every other song featured on the soundtrack was written by him but performed by another musician. 

The political angle is another missed opportunity. We learn that totalitarianism is bad. 

I found it difficult to get to the end, but I ploughed on out of misplaced loyalty to Bob.